A new poem by Ben Horrobin
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The primitive draw of the ocean
Of the edge of the world
For anyone who has ever felt pursued
Far enough doesn’t hold a candle to all the way.
Get on another plane
Drive to the very edge
Some North stars point West.
A place to which you are linked by birth
Has residual magnetism in it
A stronger pull
Than where you spent some time
Especially if you’ve never been anywhere long
Roots pulled easily from thawed ground
They’ll call you